A Price on His Head
by gammara
Summary: Shran. Navaar. You find out who the father is ... or do you?
1. Chapter 1

**A Price on His Head**

Archer sat on the Bridge staring at the view screen: the swirling nebulae before him teased and taunted him. They couldn't get close enough to actually take a shuttle in to appreciate it, but they could hover near and send in probes. The plan was to take scans of the class 10 phenomena for three Earth days … that and to enjoy a small break on a neighboring planet, one friendly to Terrans and Vulcans.

Leaning back in his chair, he read the latest information from the press. The news about the coalition was good; the Andorians, Tellarites, humans and Vulcans were just beginning to make some progress. Even the media was starting to turn in Starfleet's favor as xenophobia on Earth slowly began to dwindle.

The captain liked to think the acceptance of aliens was because Enterprise, and ships like her – including the Columbia, which were out in space making a positive difference. Maybe that and the people of Earth, after reading reports about Enterprise for five years, were used to hearing about strange new worlds and new civilizations.

T'Pol stared over her scanner. "The probe has picked up something unusual."

She'd been just as interested as he was in finding out more about the phenomena, maybe more so. Vulcans had only classified a type 9; the one in front of them was more interesting, holding more scientific data.

"Oh?" he said with a smile. He expected to hear a report on gasses or ion particles, and was surprised to hear a tinge of alarm in her voice.

Suddenly the stoic glee in her voice turned sour.

"An Orion vessel."

Archer furrowed his brow. Ever since he'd rescued his crew from being sold at auction into slavery only a year ago, every meeting with the Orions turned into an "incident."

He'd had a price on his head – more credits than he could count if a bounty hunter brought Archer's head in to the Syndicate council chambers. Ship after ship had been sent to apprehend him. It seemed to be something that occurred every few months with increasing success. Each time he'd managed to escape, and yet each time the Orions came closer to their mark, including a harrowing escape after being captured last time. The scar on his back was a reminder of that incident. It also brought into clarity a phrase he'd heard Ambassador Graal say about Shran: "the man is like an Orion: he never forgives and he never forgets."

"Hull plating," Archer said.

It didn't need to be said, and Malcolm gave a grunt for an acknowledgement already having acted on the advice.

The ship in front of them was a war ship, but didn't bear the markings of the Syndicate. This one on screen was a deep emerald with amber contrasts.

"Commercial class ship," T'Pol said.

As the captain was about to give another command to Hoshi, the comm officer scrunched her face from left to right and then punched a few buttons.

"They're hailing us," Hoshi said.

_That never happens. _

"On viewscreen," he said.

"My name is Captain Uru'adan." His green face, piercings littering his cheek and chin, and menacing smile caused Archer to shift uncomfortably.

"What can I do for you?" Archer asked. Although he guessed it was clear who he was, he was cautious all the same.

"I have a woman who would like to speak with you."

Archer scowled as she stepped in his view: a green woman with long, curly black hair and blue eyes. Her smile was painted with dark green lipstick and her teeth where white. The clothes she wore, what little there were, clung to her curves showing enough to tantalize a man's imagination. And a severely swollen belly peaked through the garments that barely covered her midriff.

Archer frowned. "Navaar?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his first officer shoot him a curious glance.

Stroking her stomach lazily, the Orion gave a smile. "Jonathan."

Her attention directed toward her navel. He drew in a deep breath and narrowed his eyes.

"I have urgent news."

He didn't like where this was going.

"My baby."

Waiting, he held his breath.

"It's yours."

"What!" he said.

"My child is yours, the one in my womb, was seeded by you."

He fell back in his chair. When words finally came to his mouth, he disagreed. "It's been two years since I've seen you. There's no way --."

"Orion women have long gestation periods. I know it's yours. You're the only man in three years ..."

Frowning, he disagreed silently. _I doubt _that's _the case. _

T'Pol whispered behind him. "Their gestation period _is _more flexible, lasting up to three years if necessary."

"We never --" he said again.

Navaar said, "I found out only recently. But, when I my child was associated with you, I realized the danger our child is in. You're a wanted man."

Her large blue eyes blinked helplessly and Archer found himself remembering his entrancement; he recalled a time where he almost couldn't deny her anything. His heart beating, he leaned forward as the knots in his stomach reached his face, sprouting into a decided frown on his face.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone terse.

"To tell you of your son." She paused. "To seek refuge."

"Navaar --."

Without looking, he heard tiny steps behind him and felt his first officer staring at his back. Reasserting his earlier statements, he puffed out his chest.

"I don't think so."

"Cut transmission," T'Pol said.

Looking down at his shoes, he tried to gather his wits about him. Since he'd taken command of Enterprise, there'd been few times where he'd been genuinely embarrassed. This was one; he was loath to have his dirty laundry shown this way in front of a few crewmen … even a few friends ….

When he finally gazed up, he noticed the Bridge was deathly quiet and all eyes were pointed on him. Hoshi looked stunned, Travis seemed curious and Malcolm appeared to hold many questions … and possibly disappointment. About to deflect the seriousness of the matter, Archer opened his mouth when his science officer interrupted.

"I would like to speak with you in the Ready Room." she said.

Swallowing deeply, he nodded.

When the two reached the office and the door slid behind them, T'Pol raised both eyebrows – her face itself an accusation.

"That's not my child," he said.

A wandering eyebrow poked against her bangs. "Oh?"

"T'Pol."

Folding her arms across her chest, she challenged him. "Captain, I remember you being under the influence of the Orions."

"Under the influence – yes. But…."

Her lips flattened. "The pheromones were powerful. Even Dr. Phlox indicated there might be memory lapses due to the antidote."

"Memory lapses is one thing, but …." His lips tugged down.

"You're not certain?"

Archer remembered many things about the encounter with the Orions, even though it was two years ago. When they'd visited his ship, his feet had found Navaar's door faster than his brain could comprehend. Just as he'd told himself he shouldn't kiss her, his mouth connected with hers … with more passion than he'd wanted to admit. He recalled T'Pol had contacted him and Navaar's hands had unzipped his uniform, spreading the buttons of his shirt to undo them. She'd kissed at his neck, biting it gingerly between her teeth, and then ….

"Captain?" she asked.

Staring up, he weakly stumbled into the seat behind his desk. "It's just not possible."

"You don't remember?" she asked. It was difficult to miss the confusion and condemnation in her voice.

His hands swept over his face. "I think I would've remembered if we …."

Her face was bland, and she stared at him until he squirmed under the pressure.

"It's just --"

"This _could_ be your child?"

After his zipper had been tugged past his waist, she'd let her hands roam wildly along his body. All the while he focused on getting back to the bridge.

"I didn't have enough time between when you called and --"

"You didn't have enough time …?" she asked.

He cringed. "To …."

"Mate?"

"Yes." His gaze shifted uncomfortably.

"When?"

He wiggled in his chair and avoided her inspection. "I went to Navaar's room to debrief her on protocols when –"

Noticing the way she lifted her brows at the words "debrief on protocols" forced him to glare and then continued. "When you contacted me about the planet."

It seemed she remembered the moment clearly. "It was approximately twenty minutes before you arrived on the bridge."

The two blinked at each other.

She finally asked, "Are you indicating twenty minutes would not leave you enough time to procreate?"

Hanging his mouth open slightly, he disagreed. "No …. I'm saying--"

As her eyes perused him, he averted her gaze. And he tried to tell her again. "I'm saying twenty minutes is enough time to … but …."

"But?"

His lips twitched. "But, I don't think we did."

"You don't _think, _however, you cannot remember."

"T'Pol …."

"When you came to the bridge, you were … agitated. We know from Dr. Phlox that is a symptom of by prolonged and concentrated exposure to Orion females."

He understood her point all too well; she was indicating that the reason he was so wired and keyed-up on the bridge – ready to attack a ship – was because he'd had sex with Navaar.

"No," he reasserted. "I was antsy, I think, because --"

"But you don't know."

He sighed again. Squinting his eyes, reasserted his comment. "It's just not possible."

"Captain --?"

Slumping his shoulders, he acquiesced. He turned his back to her so that the confession was less humiliating.

"Fine. I don't remember. I suppose there's a possibility – _remote _though it may be – that the child is mine. I just can't believe, T'Pol that …."

Navaar's fingers had dipped and swerved around his body; each caress had caused him to practically jump out of his skin with delight. He'd bent Navaar over his console, kissing her feverishly … and that was the extent of his memories.

"We should ask Dr. Phlox to review the DNA of the unborn fetus and compare it to yours."

He nodded lamely.

After a few minutes of silence, T'Pol's voice quieted. "Perhaps you should ask the staff not to repeat what they've heard."

Just as hushed, he voiced his agreement. "I will."

She continued saying the things he was already wondering. "Rumors and allegations are bound to come out; I have noticed in my time aboard Enterprise that sometimes allegations are just as bad, if not worse, than the truth. When Navaar walks aboard this vessel – heavily pregnant, people may wonder."

"Yeah." Turning his back to stare out the window, he heard her speak behind him.

"I'll arrange for her to come aboard and meet with Dr. Phlox."

"I'd appreciate it."

She coughed lightly. "I might suggest you refrain from seeing her until I contact you."

Glancing barely over his shoulder, he contradicted her. "T'Pol, if this is my child --"

"Although Dr. Phlox can assist you, you will not be immune to Navaar."

He shook his head. "But, this might be my son."

"You would want to see her even if she lured you into mating with her? Or, if she used you and stole your DNA to create your offspring?"

_Snarling his lip, he stared out the window. The answer was still the same. _

"Yes."

An eyebrow lifted. Sternly, she spoke to him. "You have counted on me many times in the past. If this _is_ your child, you can rest assured I will notify you."

He was silent, and she spoke again. "You can depend that I will do everything in my power to help you."

For the first time since their discussion, he looked deeply into her eyes, his lips forming the smallest smile at the glint in her eyes. And, once he caught her gaze and she returned it, he kept looking.

"I know."

That was part of the shame he felt; that he'd let down T'Pol. Without saying anything else, she inclined her head to one side and walked onto the Bridge to deal with Navaar directly. It left Archer alone to ponder whether he'd sired a baby and a little helpless until the doctor ran the results.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

T'Pol raised her eyebrow at Ensign Ramirez, the transporter operator. The 22-year old man's tongue dripped out of his mouth – saliva in tow - and his eyes lurched forward to gawk at the woman who'd shimmered onto the transporter pad.

Navaar curled her finger around a strand of hair and smiled playfully, taunting and teasing the man. The Vulcan easily surmised the woman hadn't changed. Something, a niggle of a feeling, worked it's way into her mind; she felt a little … antsy and annoyed.

"May I help you?" Ramirez asked. Leaving the station he was assigned to, he walked up to escort her off the pad.

"I don't want to inconvenience you," Navaar said. By the time she'd finished the sentence the man was already at her side providing an arm.

Looping one arm in his, Navaar ran a finger from her free arm down the man's bicep, and he grinned at her and the attention.

"I'd be happy to escort you –" Ramirez began.

T'Pol decided to speak, putting an end to the display. "Ensign, that will be all. Report to Engineering."

"But, Commander, I was –"

"That will be all."

With a single nod and a wounded-puppy gaze, he turned to the Orion and then walked back to Engineering. T'Pol watched him walk around the corner; although it was a short distance she felt the confirm he'd left. The moment he was gone, Navaar's smile fell and with a little venom in her voice, she spoke to T'Pol.

"I see you're still here."

"Indeed."

"Where is he? I want to see him."

Him equaled Archer.

"Unavailable. You are here to determine the patronage of your child. Nothing more. When that task is complete, you will be returned to your ship."

Rubbing her extended belly, she followed behind T'Pol to Sickbay. "I would expect he'd want to see the mother of his child."

T'Pol ignored the comment. "Follow me."

The women strolled through the corridors, and to T'Pol's Vulcanly chagrin, the human males rolled out their tongues, panted and followed them through the halls. As each man approached, the Vulcan reminded him to return to his station, but a few continued to try and make small talk with Navaar despite orders to "desist immediately."

Thirty minutes later – twenty-five minutes longer than it should've taken, they reached Sickbay along with three stragglers. T'Pol, thankful they'd finally reached the medical facility, turned to them and leveraged additional threats – putting them on report, confining them to their quarters, and a few others that didn't seem quite logical. Eventually enough had been hurled that the men glumly went back to their stations.

Just as the first officer was about to address Dr. Phlox, she noticed he'd already wandered over to them and had been talking with the Orion – his entire face twisted into an enormous smile. She caught their conversation in progress, but could tell where it was going.

"Yes, it's been almost two years," Phlox said. "Far too long."

"I think so, too." Navaar batted her eyelashes and he puffed out his chest while widening his overly large grin.

_This is going to be more difficult than I suspected, T'Pol thought._

"Would you mind sitting on the biobed?" he asked.

He held out his hand to help her up, and she took it eagerly. Demurely, despite her revealing clothing and rotund tummy, she gained enough momentum to sit on the bed. Phlox beamed like a proud parent or loving spouse. And, instead of letting go of the doctor's fingers, she stroked them.

"Doctor, your hands are so nimble. You must be an excellent physician."

T'Pol could see his ridges beginning to darken – a sign on Denobula that the male was interested in the young woman.

"Why, thank you," he said.

"Doctor?" T'Pol asked.

He continued his gaze, unfettered.

"Phlox?" the Vulcan asked again.

The Orion's lips tugged up and his ridges darkened further.

"Yes?" he asked, a breathy quality to his voice.

Navaar's fingers left his and instead ran along the ridges as he sucked in a deep breath. The gesture made her smile.

"I don't suppose you know anything about rose-petal baths?" he asked.

T'Pol couldn't prevent an obvious emotional reaction: rolling her eyes. And as soon as she did so, she drew her face in as if to swallow the feeling.

"Phlox, you're here to review her DNA," she said. When he didn't respond, she clarified her comment. "The offspring."

"Yes," he said. He didn't move.

"Doctor?" she asked again.

He finally broke his stare to look up at her bio-signs. Satisfied, he reached into his pocket, still smiling at the Orion, and ran his scanner over her. Looking at the results, he did a small double take.

"Your pheromone levels are higher than before," he said. "Significantly higher. I'm reading more than a 100 percent increase. That seems impossible."

T'Pol's eyebrow climbed. _No wonder the inoculation he'd given to the crew wasn't working._

"It's because of my pregnancy," she said. Taking his fingers back she rubbed her cheek against the palm of his hand. "I guess I secrete more now. I wish I could prevent it."

Phlox's hair began to stand on end. As unethical as it was, he began rolling out his tongue and leaned over to touch his tongue to hers. The Orion looked like she wasn't going to stop him, so T'Pol had only one choice. Carefully she wrapped her hand around his shoulder and squeezed mightily, sending the Denobulan to the ground.

Sighing, another emotional response, she heard the doors open and close behind her. Crewmen Johnson and Ensign Steinberg entered the facility sniffing the air. When their eyes met Navaar's, they smiled.

_Much worse than I suspected._

Grabbing Navaar's arm, she yanked her off the bed and brushed past both crewmen, heading straight for Decon. Dragging her through the corridors, she noticed a trail of men trailing behind. Picking up speed, she footed it to the room hoping to avoid them. Once there she took out her phase pistol, keeping it leveled at the dark-skinned skin vixen and punched the button at the comm.

"T'Pol to Commander Tucker."

"Tucker here. What can I do for ya?" His voice sounded a little lazier than usual … as if he was using the husky quality when they'd been intimate.

It made her brow shoot up.

"There are pheromones affecting our crewmen. We need to recycle the air quickly."

"Takes three days to recycle."

Navaar smiled.

"We can't move faster?"

Trip countered. "Not unless you wanted to put everyone in an EV suit."

"Thank you," she said about to punch the comm button again.

"Wait … uhm, they're playin' a movie tonight. I wanted to see –"

Navaar's lips tugged up more.

"I doubt I will have the time. T'Pol out."

The Orion grinned. "Hmmm, both the captain and the commander?"

T'Pol's lips worked themselves into a blatant frown. "Nothing has happened between the captain and I. We are merely friends."

"So, just the commander?"

Navaar's face was pure joy, which ticked the Vulcan off. For a minute, just one, she'd actually considered leveling the pistol and stunning the Orion. Basing her conclusion, in that one minute, on one formulated fact: because Navaar "deserved it."

Shaken by these thoughts and the emotion that had crumbled her Vulcan façade, she reckoned the best thing she could do was leave Decon. Backing up, she exited the facility and entered a security code to lock the Orion in – a non-standard entry, so that a crewmen who'd managed to take in her smell earlier couldn't release her.

Turning around, she determined her decision had been sound. Already three crewmen lined up behind her to stare at the Orion. A little disoriented, she walked to the bridge to communicate everything to Archer.

* * *

Sitting in his office, she noticed he was sweating – just as he had been the last time Navaar was onboard. It wasn't the pacing, which he'd already been doing for the past fifteen minutes while she explained everything. She'd noticed most of the men had begun sweating – even Reed and Mayweather. 

Finally, after taking in all the details, he wiped his hand over his forehead, collecting the water that emanated there. T'Pol bit her lower lip.

"Three days to recycle the air?"

"Yes."

"When will Phlox wake up?"

"Another hour at most."

"We're obviously already affected," he said. "At least I am."

She hesitated. "Even _I_ am affected."

He squinted and waited for more information, which she was reluctant to give. Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes.

"I am more emotional."

He stopped pacing.

Licking her lips, she took another breath. "Much more. I … cannot control my reactions. Although I have not had time to meditate, I … doubt that will be of assistance."

He frowned. "We need to get Dr. Phlox working on an antidote right away. I'm … having trouble thinking."

She nodded in agreement. About to dismiss her, she stood and held onto his forearm for a second to stop him. When he paused, she released her grip.

"We were unable to discern if the child is yours."

"I figured as much."

"When the air has recycled and the crew has been inoculated, we will resume."

"Agreed."

"I presume your memory of the … incident ... has not returned?"

Shifting his gaze to the ceiling, he shook his head. "It just seems the kind of thing I would remember, you know?"

"Yes." Without realizing it, she found herself nodding in definite agreement and thinking of her intimacy with Tucker. At her concurrence, he raised both eyebrows.

"I'll see if I can rouse the doctor and then assist Trip," she said, hoping to deflect the comment.

"If that doesn't work, I think we should return Navaar to the Orion ship."

The two agreed and stepped onto the bridge to assume their roles. Although it was barely audible, T'Pol could hear the captain mumble to himself.

"God, I hope Phlox finds something before three days. I don't know how much more I can take of this."

Silently, T'Pol agreed.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: RomulanFox, it can always get worse (err, the writing and the conflict)! At least one of the questions is answered. Master Solo, you're funny. I can't give away your question away yet – what fun would that be! But, I hope you trust me. At least, you should.

* * *

Archer stared ahead at the Orion ship on the viewscreen, ignoring the urge – strong urge – to wander down to Decon and see Navaar, especially if he was the father of the child in her womb.

Father. The word and association, held deep meaning to him. His own father was a saint – kind and gentle. Care and affection abounded, and his dad wasn't the kind of guy who was above hugging his son at every opportunity … even as both grew older. There were many memories he'd cherished about Henry Archer, one in particular was their Sunday morning ritual.

_After a large breakfast, waffles, Jonny scooted away from the table and mimicked his father's actions – rubbing his engorged tummy stuffed full of too much food. When his father settled in front of a monitor, just before the man was about to dose off for a spontaneous late morning nap, he struggled into his lap. Tucking his head into the crook of his dad's neck, he'd listen to his heart and take deep breaths to smell the coffee that emanated from him. Eventually both of them fell asleep in the position, only to be awakened by his mother. _

Well, one thing was for sure, if this _was_ his child – his son – he'd want to be there for him. He'd be there for him when he was sick or needed help. He'd be the one who'd take his little green hand, he guessed it would be green, when they crossed a street … _together_. Like his father, he'd be the one to make waffles … no matter the Orion dietary restrictions.

As Archer thought about the circumstances, he understood if the child returned to Orion, he would most likely be brought up in a world with piracy, slavery and things so decrepit and immoral, that the young man would turn out into a ruthless criminal, slave owner or bounty hunter. The planet was under constant change, and the upheaval had corrupted seemingly everyone.

_Not my child._

If he was going to lay some claim, he'd have to start working toward a good relationship with the kid's mother … that is _if_ she was pregnant with his son.

_Navaar._

He'd need to see her to get some information on how to counteract the odor she was giving off that was driving him … and his crew … crazy. At least that's what he'd reasoned.

He rose from his chair and announced that Malcolm had the bridge. And with that, he headed for the turbolift for a heart-to-heart.

* * *

An extraordinarily sleepy Phlox worked on the data his scan had already captured while T'Pol attempted to assist. The doctor had reasoned, in between several yawns, that the Orion was giving off more pheromones because of her pregnancy. Although the amount and extent that an Orion typically gave off, he hadn't yet confirmed. Reviewing the information, he revealed aloud why he'd hypothesized the pheromone was stronger when the green women were with child. 

"It ensures they have someone who will act as father," he said. "I presume it's difficult to assert paternity from time-to-time."

T'Pol attempted to keep from frowning as she delivered a statement that sounded as snarky as she'd intended, something she was usually able to mask.

"Undoubtedly – they're mating habits are irresponsible and haphazard at best."

The doctor eyed her briefly and then continued viewing the cells displayed on the monitor in front of them, coughing at her comment.

She didn't miss his response. "I apologize. My emotions –"

He nodded and then yawned again. "We're all affected in some way." Reaching over to his hypo, he shot himself in the neck. "I don't know if I want to fall asleep or …."

She nudged her eyebrow up only slightly. "If there's anything further I can do to help with the scans, let me know."

He nodded and she turned on her heel, heading toward Engineering. Men littered the hallways, all sweaty with their eyes glazed over. They were like vorgas who had a mayta cornered – fierce and hungry. Although they weren't eyeing her, she felt uncomfortable ... especially since the walkways smelled like sweat.

Slipping through the corridors, clearing up the occasional arguing match between crewmen, she eventually made it to her destination: Engineering. The men there were no different. As she made her way toward the engines a fight had already broken out when she entered: Franks and Ramirez.

"Knock it off!" Trip yelled from his perch near the engines.

Ignoring him, the shorter man - Franks - threw a fist, knocking Ramirez to the ground, so the chief engineer hustled down the ladder and intervened. Damp, blonde hair clung to his forehead and his face was beet red.

"I've had enough of both of you. If you can't cool down, I'm gonna toss ya in the brig!"

The crewmen barely bothered a nod and then skulked away, their eyes keenly trained on the other. It seemed to appease Trip, because he finally acknowledged her presence. 

"T'Pol," he said, joining her.

"How many arguments have you had since Navaar's arrival?" she asked.

"Three. I'm tellin' ya, I'm gonna bust some heads. Ensigns Ramirez and Franks have tried to go at it once already. One more time, one more, and I'm sending 'em to the Brig."

A deep breath and a nod was her reply.

"You seem okay," he said. Looming over, looking her form over from head to toe, he was agitated that she escaped any noticeable symptoms.

Sucking in a deep breath, she corrected him. "On the contrary I … am … I am losing emotional control."

That pleased him. "Kinda makes you wish we had the bond back?" he quipped.

"No," she scoffed.

He shrugged and switched gears.

"I've been thinking since we last spoke," he said. The back of his hand wiped off a bead of perspiration from his temple. "We could try and filter out the pheromone … if we knew what we were looking for."

"That is a small possibility." It was a consideration, one she'd thought of, but the chances were remote. "The doctor should have it identified within the next few hours."

He nodded, his mouth tight drawn tightly together. "Doesn't give us any options in the meantime."

"If we do manage to locate the compound, how long would it take to filter?"

"A day … give or take a few hours."

T'Pol threw her eyes on the floor.

"If we don't filter the air, we'd have to recycle … and that takes three days. I don't know about the rest of 'em, but I don't think I can take feeling like this for that long."

He dabbed at his forehead with the back of his sleeve and then threw a pained gaze at T'Pol, one she wasn't sure she liked.

"Neither could I," she agreed.

Suddenly a couple of crewmen started to mouth off to each other, and Trip gave the Vulcan an exasperated look.

"We've gotta do something. We're all coming unglued."

The Vulcan straightened. "Perhaps I can glean information from Navaar."

* * *

Archer couldn't help but notice the closer he got to Decon, the stronger his reactions were. He was perspiring before, but now he dripped it – it cascaded down his face and onto his neck. In addition, he felt … edgy, like the kind he used to feel right before a big water polo match. That is, with one exception: his uniform was a little snugger in some areas. A little tighter, but unnoticeable. 

Ordering crewmen back to work, he eventually found his way to Decon. As soon as he stepped in the chamber adjacent to the room, he saw her. Long dark curly hair, rich black lips that pouted and clothing that left very little to his imagination. Very little. Her top was more like a bra, barely covering her breasts, her midriff was bare, despite being large, and her long legs were in plain sight -- the material just skimmed over her body covering only the most private of parts.

Licking his lips, he noticed that even six months heavy with child – at least that's what he gathered by her belly – she was desirous.

"You finally stopped by," she noted. "You wanted to see your son."

He furrowed his brow at her and pointed at her belly. "That's not my child."

Twisting her hair around her finger, she disagreed. "Yes, it is."

"Navaar --"

She batted her lashes and for the first time a flash of a memory overtook him.

"Don't you remember?"

He glanced away, as she started to reveal events that had somehow escaped his memory.

"You were so eager, we didn't have time to make it to the bed," she said.

_Navaar's cabin was dark – she was expecting Jonathan and wanted to show her gratitude. Every action she took and move she made focused on one thing: seducing him. _

_As he fell into her spell, T'Pol's voice rang out. Even though compelled to duty, he found himself being lulled into Navaar's trance … so much so that it was difficult for him to respond to T'Pol – even pressing the button that would respond to her hail. His mind chanted the woman's name, as if she were a narcotic, one that was dangerous and exhilarating. Struggling to answer the Vulcan's questions he watched as Navaar suckled his fingers – biting and licking them – and already unzipped his uniform by the time he could respond._

_Having his libido perked to attention so quickly – he'd only entered her cabin ten minutes ago – startled him. Of course, not enough so that he stopped. In fact, when the discussion with his first officer was over, he took the green woman into his arms, bent her over the console and kissed her wildly._

_Each embrace turned more heated until her tongue pushed into his mouth where they collided. Their hands grabbed at each other, her digits skimming his chest hair unzipping his coverall as he pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth._

_She dug her nails into his back and the moment he came up for air, she whispered into his ear._

_"Yes." _

"I've been with many men, but none seemed to need me as badly as you did,"

Awakened from his thoughts, he was quiet.

"I wanted you to take me again, but you refused."

"You used me."

"You were an enemy of the Orion Syndicate," she said.

He frowned.

Biting one of her nails, coyly, she wandered around Decon. "I didn't know you then. I didn't know what you were like."

She leered at him. Instinctively, he knew she was feeding him a line, but his body appreciated the sentiment a little too much.

"Whatever you believe, I hope you will accept your son."

He grimaced. "How do you know this is my child?"

She planted her eyes on him. "A woman knows."

Trying not to sound too snide, he disagreed. "That's not good enough."

"If you put your hand on my stomach and feel his heart, you'll know it's yours." Her eyes glanced at the door as if she longed to be set free.

He shook his head.

Creeping closer to the window, she moved her lips slowly and seductively. "I can tell by the way you look at me that you still want me."

She was beautiful. Although he wanted to dispute it, he couldn't.

"I still want you, too," she said. Her blue eyes were watery, as if she were on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. I didn't want to leave your side. I only wanted you to know of your son, to accept him."

His fingers touched the glass and she reached her hand to meet his, staring at him.

"If you release me, maybe we can … talk about him … about our future."

"I … came … to ahh …." His mind wandered to her mouth and how it would feel pressed against his.

Her tongue danced across her lips and he helplessly responded in kind.

"Jonathan, please."

He stared at her.

"We can work together," she pleaded. "I can assist you with what's happening to your crew."

"My crew--"

"And then, we can lay on your bed and take our time making love."

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement, his fingers nudged buttons to unlock the door. When he didn't hear the satisfying click of the bolt, he scowled at it.

"You won't be able to open it, Captain. Only I know the code," T'Pol said. Her arms were crossed and disappointment was slapped onto her face.

Whipping around he stared at her. "Open the door."

She raised her eyebrows. "No."

Towering over her, he instructed her again. "I'm giving you an order."

"And I'm refusing to follow it."

As he opened his mouth, Navaar spoke.

"She's jealous. She wants both you and Tucker to herself."

_Tucker? _he asked himself.

T'Pol threw the woman a glare and then gazed back at Archer. "We're _both _being affected. I know it's difficult for you to --"

"Why didn't you use the standard locking code?" he asked.

T'Pol said, "I suspected you, or someone else, might try and release her."

"She can help us, T'Pol."

"I sincerely doubt she wants to _help _us. She and her sisters attempted to capture you and destroy Enterprise when last we saw her … or have you forgotten that as well?"

He growled in response.

Navaar remarked. "You can tell by the way she shows emotion for you that she's green with envy."

The Vulcans eyes narrowed. "Ironic though your statement may be, it is – to be sure – wholly inaccurate."

As Archer was about speak his mind, loudly and unabated – mostly asking the ladies to pipe down – the comm chirped.

"Phlox to Archer."

With anger, the captain mashed his finger on the button. "What?"

"I believe I have the answers to a few questions," Phlox stated.

Archer glanced at T'Pol. "Go ahead."

"The Orion," he paused, "is producing more pheromones than usual." Before Archer could irritatedly ask what was "news" about that, the doctor continued. "They've been … manufactured."

"Manufactured?" Stunned, his eyes landed on the green-skinned woman in Decon.

"I've also had a chance to glance over the first scans I took. It has information about the child she is carrying. It is most definitely half-human."

Archer took a deep breath. "On my way."

"Jonathan, I would never –" Navaar started.

Without listening to the rest of the weak defiance, mostly because he was afraid he'd believe it, he left.

T'Pol shot Navaar a scolding stare and hurried behind him.

Dr. Phlox reached over and shot another hypo into his neck as the captain and first officer entered. He got down to business right away as his eyes sleepily fluttered.

"We are definitely responding to a chemical she's secreting, a manufactured one."

Archer wrinkled his brow. "For what purpose?"

"The Orion Syndicate. Perhaps this is a tactic to capture Enterprise again," T'Pol said.

Phlox shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever it is, only 10 percent are her own natural pheromones."

"How could 90 percent be manufactured?" Archer asked.

The doctor scratched his chin. "I don't know yet. However, I've isolated a compound in her blood stream."

"Can you give the compound to Trip so that he may filter it?" T'Pol asked.

"I'm not sure filtering it will help," he said. Waving the two near a monitor, he pointed at the display as he scanned Archer.

T'Pol's eyebrow poked up.

"Increased heart rate, increased adrenaline, you can see everything is off the charts …."

"Yes, his rise in testosterone is marked."

Archer frowned at the information. Then, Phlox waved the scanner over T'Pol. She looked equally surprised.

"It's affecting my neural pathways."

"You _also_ have high levels of testosterone," Phlox said.

She frowned. The captain gave a mild interest in the statement. He knew enough about biology to know it's what sparked – at least humans, even women – to want sex. Inspecting her further, she gave a blatant frown.

"Filtering it is not enough," Phlox said, "We need to recycle the air. Without doing so, we'd continue to …."

He shot himself with another stimulant.

"Yes," she agreed. She should've known that, and perhaps under normal circumstances she would've.

Archer asked, "Could you inoculate us against the affects?"

"It's possible, but it may take a few days synthesize something."

"What about our EV suits?" Archer asked.

T'Pol shook her head. "Not enough for the entire crew."

The captain looked struck by an off the wall idea; they could plan an unscheduled vacation on the planet that neighbored the nebula – the same one they were planning on visiting three days from now.

Archer furrowed his brow. "We could head to M-19 for R&R. It's only a few days ahead of schedule. That way, we could leave a skeleton crew to work out the problems … with EV suits."

She mused on the idea.

He tried harder for the sale. "It'd reduce the violence."

"True," she agreed. All the same, he could tell something was bothering her about the situation, but he didn't back down.

"I'd like you to start organizing parties to head to the surface."

"Very well," she said. About to turn, she stopped when Archer hung on the balls of his feet, waiting to say something to Phlox.

"Captain?" the doctor asked.

"Did you …?" Archer asked. His hand nervously massaged the back of his neck. "Did you find out …?"

Phlox shook his head, guessing the question. "The child Navaar is carrying is definitely half-human, but I don't know who the father is yet. I'm … comparing the genome to those in the Enterprise database first."

The captain nodded, when T'Pol turned to him. "I presume you haven't yet remembered the incident yet?"

The captain's breath caught in his throat.

Without being able to feign her surprise, she pressed on. "I see. And?"

His eyes leveled at her. "I'd like the landing party list on my desk in an hour. I'll talk with Trip about recycling the air."

She opened her mouth for one last question, but he interrupted by spinning on his heel and marching out.

A slim eyebrow cocked itself at the door as it closed. The doctor summed up what she was thinking, tapping his chin.

"Hmmm …."

"Indeed."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

It took five hours to compile a list of vacationers, assign them to shuttles – with officers to lead them —and for everyone to pack for the trip.

It was the packing that took the longest.

Although the crew would've normally jumped at the chance to a little rest and relaxation, the men onboard seemed more interested in starting a few fights and leering at their fellow female crew. Unfortunately, this wasn't limited to just junior members; officers had the same trouble.

Archer stepped onto the Bridge from his Ready Room after holing himself up there to avoid leering at any female members who happened to be on the Bridge. The only reason he joined the crew was to greet Trip and call everyone into the Situation Room to divulge which crew members would stay and the procedures for recycling the air.

Instead of settling easily into his seat and waiting, he found himself pacing around the room … and his eyes wandering over to T'Pol more often than he would've liked. His gaze was interrupted by the sound of a Southern drawl.

"Cap'n?" Trip asked.

Startled, he nodded, and then despite his best efforts, turned his attention to what he was watching before … as Trip joined in: T'Pol hunched over the sensors. When she finally glanced behind her, both Archer and Trip looked immediately away (at the ceiling and then the floor); the engineer managed to mumble a few words.

"Can I talk to ya for a second?" he said.

"Sure," Archer said. His attention again taken as T'Pol sat down and leaned over her console, no doubt entering the readings into the system. Her clingy catsuit showed the smallest amount of cleavage, but still enough for Archer to gape.

After a few seconds passed, and when he realized Trip hadn't moved an inch either, he turned to him. The engineer's mouth hung open. It made him take the engineer by the arm and head to the Ready Room. As soon as the door closed, the blonde said exactly what was on Archer's mind.

"Cap'n, I don't know how much more I can take of this."

He agreed, wiping his sweating forehead with his hand, and sitting down. "T'Pol," he said as the word hung on his lips "said the first shuttle will be ready to launch in an hour."

"Yeah, well … all I can say is it's a good thing we're leaving the crew behind. Apparently we've used more water in the past day than we typically use in a week. It'll take us a few days to recycle the water, too."

To back up his statement, he threw a PADD on the desk. Archer glanced at it and winced.

"This is more cold water than that day the heater broke," the captain said.

Trip nodded. "I took three showers that day. Felt like Miami in August." With a slight frown, he said, "I took two today … before you ask."

The older man narrowed his eyes and set the PADD down. "I wasn't going to ask."

The man shrugged. "I got my engineers picked out for the air recycling."

Archer nodded. "Who?"

"LeBron, Martin and Ferelli."

The captain's eyebrows raised. "Those are all women. Attractive women."

"Really, hadn't noticed. Besides, Travis is on the team, too."

"Well, sure, but he was already on the team. You didn't chose him."

"What's your point?"

"Trip, are they best qualified for the job?"

"You questioning my engineering skills?"

Archer drew a deep breath and stood up. "No. I'm asking about your choices."

"I stand behind them."

"Martin's the red head in Operations, right?" Archer asked.

"Yeah."

"Twenty six. She leads the kickboxing class that takes place on Wednesdays."

"I guess so."

"She reports to Kessler …. Why wouldn't you want him in your team?"

"It's not a tough job. Susan could use the experience."

"The other people in Operations are Basso, Rostov and Ewing?"

"Right."

"Martin doesn't have the least amount of experience. Ewing is twenty-three, fresh from Starfleet. Seems like he would have the least."

"Didn't want him to feel the affects of the pheromones."

"We'll be wearing EV suits."

"Listen, if you'd rather pick my team be my guest!"

"No need to get snippy. I'm just questioning –"

"I don't come in here and tell you that you've been looking at T'Pol's ass for nearly two minutes before I interrupted, do I?"

"Excuse me!" The man walked a little closer, to glare into the younger man's eyes.

"You heard me." Trip puffed his chest out.

Archer closed the distance to stand almost toe-to-toe with him. "I didn't pick three young, attractive women to spend three days with."

"No you picked one: T'Pol."

"She's my first officer."

"We need the captain, first and second officer for a routine air recycling?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"Navaar?"

Just as Archer was about to argue, the intercom blared. "T'Pol to Captain Archer."

Training his sights on the engineer once more, he broke off and punched the button. "Yeah."

"Sir, you indicated you wanted to hold the staff briefing at –"

"I'm on my way."

* * *

T'Pol's face flushed as she sat down at the end of the table opposite to Archer. Phlox, Reed, Mayweather and Trip all filed in and sat down. As soon as they did, she noticed, with a little unease, they seemed zero-ed in on her … much like when she was on the Bridge.

It's why she excused Hoshi from the meeting and assigned her to lead the landing crew.

"Where's Hoshi?" Reed asked. "I haven't seen her for a couple of hours." A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

"Leading the first boarding party down to the planet. I determined we didn't need a communication officer for the recycling."

"Will she be back?" Travis asked.

She responded raising a slim eyebrow. "Not until the air is recycled. Captain, you wanted to debrief on what was happening?"

Archer stood and tugged at his collar – which had already been unbuttoned by three. T'Pol ran her tongue over her lips.

The man grabbed the back of his chair almost in response. "Yes. T'Pol's already told you that we're using the transporter to get the majority of the crew down. We'll begin tonight at 1900 hours, when the Shuttlepod Two leaves the bay. Phlox, Reed, T'Pol and I will change into EV suits –"

Reed grinned devilishly.

"Is there a problem Mr. Reed?" Archer asked.

"Pardon me, sir?" he asked.

"Perhaps I should change with Commander Tucker's team," T'Pol said. "That is LeBron, Martin and Ferelli."

"Oooh, LeBron," Travis said, beaming.

Archer shot the helmsman a cold stare. "Good idea. The men will change into an EV suit at 1900 hours then and …."

"Is Ferelli the blonde?" Reed asked.

Trip nodded, letting a winning grin pass over his lips. "Yeah."

"Gentleman," Archer sighed. "I know our nerves are a little … frayed, but let's focus on the task at hand."

T'Pol noticed Trip bit back a quip. The captain continued.

"At 2100, Engineering will start recycling the air. Lieutenant, I'd like you to keep a close eye on Navaar; I'd –"

"Navaar? Not a problem, sir," Reed said.

Archer blinked. "May I finish?"

"Oh. Yes. By all means."

"Under no circumstances allow anyone, with the exception of T'Pol, to enter that area. That includes me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"T'Pol, when is Shuttlepod One ready to embark?" Archer asked.

She brushed her fingertips through her hair and noticed the men all halted their activity with the exception of Phlox, whose eyes were closed.

"At 1700 hours, sir." Her attention averted to the Denobulan. "Dr. Phlox, please wake up."

The physician, who seemed to have just dozed for a second, flung his eyes open and snorted.

"Ensign Sato is leading that party."

Archer moistened his lips. "Thanks, T'Pol. That's twenty-two minutes. Do any of you have any questions?"

"Why you stayin' onboard?" Trip asked.

Archer narrowed his eyes. "Dismissed."

Phlox gave a great yawn and pushed himself up from the table. As each man began to file out, she heard Travis lean into Malcolm and say a few words.

"Martin, LeBron and Ferelli. Damn I've got it good."

Reed grinned. "I heard Ferelli is double-jointed. She leads the Yoga class on Friday."

"Ooooo," Travis said.

T'Pol gave a light cough, which stopped their salacious discussion, and slipped past to her workstation. Digging her fingers into the console, her eyes flitted to the chronometer at her station hoping to hold out for another few hours. Vaguely, she felt two eyes on her. Looking up, she noticed they belonged to the captain.

At first, she met them, wondering if he had a question. But, as soon as she met his gaze, she noticed he glanced away. Throwing a little caution to the wind, which she normally wouldn't do, she asked him a question.

"May I see you in the Ready Room?"

He gave a slow nod and then followed her in there, a few paces behind. When the door slid shut she turned to him.

"Commander Tucker asked an interesting question."

He sat on the edge of his desk and shrugged. "I think you know why I chose to remain on Enterprise."

"Navaar?"

"I'd like to find out about the child's father as soon as possible. Not to mention, I'm the captain of the vessel; I want to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"Yes," she said. She found herself walking closer to him. "I'm concerned about Commander Tucker's choices for his team."

"Me, too. But, he knows his people better than I do. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that these women can do the job."

For some reason, she found herself coming closer to him.

"The affects of the pheromones are becoming more … difficult to ignore."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "I agree."

"Are you finding it difficult to keep from seeing her?"

She noticed his breath stuttered. "Yes."

"The Bridge crew is growing more … anxious as well."

He was quiet.

"They're staring at me."

"I know." Archer nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I'll speak with them."

"May I be blunt?"

"Yes," he said, quietly.

"You are … staring at me." She worked her way to standing merely centimeters away.

Uncomfortably, his eyes shifted at his feet. "I'm not trying to be disrespectful …."

Her lids almost closed, as she gazed at him. Feeling his breath on her lips, her head languidly moved toward his as if to brush her lips against his skin or slide her nose along his. She felt his pulse quicken and his breath become staggered, as his eyes met hers and then closed just a little. The two stared at each other, waiting for the other to move away or close in for contact. Catching herself from nearly bringing her fingers to his lapel to force his mouth to hers, she edged back and flattened her lips.

"It's understandable."

She noticed he gave a pant.

Relying on her willpower, or as she would esteem her concentration and determination, she dragged her feet across the threshold to enter the Bridge. All eyes on her again, she sat down in her chair with a thud.

_I don't know how much more I can take of this._

By the look on Archer's face, as he sheepishly walked onto the Bridge, she wondered about him as well. Even in his Ready Room, she's noticed his hair at the temples was becoming damp and his eyes were permanently half-lidded. His cheeks were flushed – a color somewhere between pink and tan.

Gripping her console again, noticing it buckling under her fingers and hands – as if it was a tin can – she watched the clock tick.

Reed grumbled from across the room. "Hurry up, Hoshi."

And then a voice came over the intercom.

"Ensign Sato to the Bridge."

Seemingly relieved, Archer nearly sprinted toward his chair. "Hoshi, you're a little ahead of schedule, but Shuttlepod One has my permission to –"

"Uhm, I think we have a problem," Hoshi said. "Corporal Fields just let me know that Navaar isn't in Decon."

"What do you mean she's –" Archer began.

Even T'Pol managed to blurt out something. "Impossible."

"She's gone," Sato said.

TBC

A/N: Expect an "old friend" to show up. He makes things better ... and worse.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update this one.

* * *

The captain and first officer stared at each other in wonder and shock. Navaar was gone – almost as if she was transported away.

"Archer to Corporal Fields," Archer said. His thumb jammed against the button.

It was then T'Pol saw something in her peripheral vision: a sensor flashing alerting her to information she should've noticed before.

_I have become distracted._

Focusing her attention on the board in front of her, she nudged a few buttons and then turned to stare into her scanner. There was a ship: an Andorian cargo vessel, and it was hailing them.

Just as she opened her mouth to relay the message, Reed gave the report.

"Sir, a vessel is located on our port bow."

Stunned and a little angry, he wheeled around. "Why didn't we notice it in our long-range sensors?"

Reed stared at T'Pol, and the Vulcan was about to answer, when she discovered more bad news to deliver.

"We're being hailed by an Andorian cargo vessel."

Archer, sighing loudly and wiping sweat off his brow, gave a nod as the Vulcan walked over to Hoshi's station to put it on the view screen. A blue man with white hair and wiggling antennae gave a toothy smile.

"Pink skin! You're looking more pink than usual."

"Shran! What the hell …!"

"I have her."

"What!"

T'Pol's eyebrow poked up. "Navaar?"

"Yes, Vulcan, I have her," Shran said.

"Give her back to us," Archer said.

"We should speak alone," Shran said. His eyes went directly to T'Pol and she flattened her brow with annoyance.

"I said, give her back."

The Andorian's antennae wiggled and a smile lighted his face. "I know you're sweet on her, but --"

Archer rolled his eyes. "We're investigating --"

"I know what you're investigating. I need to talk with you alone. You're about to open a kerak of targas."

Archer took two deep breaths, shot his gaze at T'Pol and then nodded with some hesitation. She knew the sign – it meant transfer the signal to his Ready Room. As soon as the door closed and the light at her station flickered off, meaning he was likely sitting at his desk talking to the blue man, she heard a loud curse. Scanning the room, she gathered no one else heard it.

Under normal circumstances, she would've let it go and refocused back on her job. This time, she nonchalantly stood and walked over to the Ready Room door hoping to catch more of the conversation. Although it was difficult to discern, she could hear Archer's end of the conversation.

Strolling the Bridge, so as not to arouse suspicion, she keened in on the captain's voice.

"_You're shitting me." Archer said._

Silence rang out.

"_Damn. I had no idea."_

More silence.

"_Jesus. You're not kidding, are you?"_

His chair creaked as if he leaned forward. She could barely hear a request from Shran.

"_No, I won't," Archer said._

Shran said something else and the captain smashed his hand against his desk.

"_Fine. I'll do it." _

Shran's voice raised and the words "you better" were the only ones she heard.

"_I will."_

The same words were repeated and she could hear Archer's boots clap against the deck plating as if he were pacing.

"_I said, I will!"_

Shran said something else, which caused his pacing to come to an abrupt halt.

"_Shran! I will! I don't like it, but I'll do it. Don't think we have much of a choice."_

Shran's voice was too low to determine exactly what he conveyed.

"_I know that's what you said."_

He sat back down at whatever Shran had to say.

"_Yeah, we're going to recycle the air."_

Another low question to the captain.

"_Yeah, three days."_

She heard the timbre of Shran's voice; it sounded like bragging and Archer sighed at the words.

"_How convenient for Andorians."_

The Andorian said something else and she heard Archer's chair squeak as if he leaned back in it.

"_Doesn't matter about T'Pol."_

Shran whispered something harshly, which is the only reason she could hear him say it. The words were difficult to determine, but she thought she heard something about how she would tell the Vulcan High Command.

"_No, that doesn't mean she is. Listen, are you going to help us?"_

Silence.

"_Shran, are you gonna help us!"_

His chair creaked again, as if he suddenly leaned forward and his fist slammed against the desk.

"_You're _not _going to help us?"_

An excuse was probably coming from Shran's lips.

"_Gee, thanks."_

More excuses came.

"_Fine."_

A small ribbing, which T'Pol could only tell because of the volume at which Archer sighed.

"_Okay."_

She heard his thumb jab the button to his computer, his chair creak as if he was standing up and then his boots clap the tinny floor. Strolling back to her station, she sat down quietly as he entered the Bridge – pretending as if she'd been there all along. Reed and Mayweather, who'd been following her with their eyes, didn't seem to really mind or notice the ruse.

Archer sat in his chair and crossed his legs. "T'Pol, I'd like to continue with the plan to get our people on the planet. One small change, Shran is going to give us some assistance."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Apparently," he said, exhaling, "Andorians aren't affected by Orion pheromones."

"He kidnapped Navaar," she said.

Archer shook his head. "Not exactly. We won't worry about that for right now. Our priority is recycling the air."

"I see," T'Pol said.

Even as he mentioned they wouldn't worry about her, she noticed the man licked his lips.

Leaning over to the intercom, she contacted Hoshi to let her know about the plans. Just as she did, she overheard the captain say a few words from his chair into the intercom, low so that no one would hear.

"Doc, you can stop trying to find out who the father is."

Phlox voice sounded sleepy. "Oh? You know who it is?"

Archer rested his arm against the chair and closed in on the comm. "Yes. It's me."

T'Pol's eyes fled over to the captain.

TBC


End file.
